5 Ways People Find Out
by Docile Boy
Summary: Brenda and Sharon have been dating for a while. How do their friends, co-workers and families find out.
1. Chapter 1

Fritz unlocked Brenda Leigh's front door with the key he hadn't bothered to return since their marriage fell apart six months ago. He was in search of his winter parka, probably hanging, dusty, in the hall closet with all of the heavy winter gear neither of them had ever used beyond a couple skiing trips when they were newly wed. He had never bothered to retrieve the jacket - wasn't sure he had closet space in his new apartment for it and the boots and the skis he hauled west with him ages ago and had used twice.

The house was quiet. Brenda Leigh was home; her Crown Vic was in the drive, her massive purse slumped against the table next to the front door. He was surprised at how clean the kitchen was. There were no dishes in the sink, no crumbs on the counter, and the coffee pot and a few mugs and wine glasses rested in the dish drain. He grimaced. Something was up. Part of the reason he had let go of his wife so easily was because he had been certain that after two weeks of having to do for herself, she would be crawling back to the comfort he offered. Even now, six months later, he still half expected her to come knocking on his new door, contrite and tearful, but it hadn't happened.

Halfway down the hallway, he heard a cry. And then another. A female voice singing out in pleasure. Brenda, masturbating? The idea intrigued him. Over five years of marriage, he could count on one hand the times that Brenda Leigh had initiated intercourse. She was always willing enough if he had the urge, but for all her flirtation and all of her feminine wiles, she had never been particularly sexually aggressive in their relationship. And he had never, ever caught her touching herself. The idea excited him. Maybe they could have some of that totally hot but completely wrong post separation sex he'd heard about from some of his buddies. He quieted his steps and crept towards the bedroom.

The bedroom door at the end of the hallway was open, and Brenda Leigh was naked in the bed, but she wasn't alone. She was prone, her skin looked pale and soft in the low light from the parted curtains. Her legs were parted slightly and he could see the dusky pink lips of her sex were unfurled and glistening. Her blonde head and thin shoulders bobbed enthusiastically over her partner's crotch. She was making noises and grinding her hips into the duvet in a way that suggested giving head was giving her intense gratification. He gritted his teeth at the thought of her enjoying a blow job. That particular sexual act had always been like pulling teeth with her.

He grimaced and turned to leave. The floor board creaked, loudly and he cringed and froze. He could practically hear Brenda's neck crack as her head whipped around.

"Why Fritzi, how nice of you to show up announced." He turned back around, slowly. Brenda was kneeling on the bed, facing him, but still between her bedmate's legs. Sweat dampened her hairline and neck, trailing down the valley between her breasts and glistening slightly over her abdomen. Her head was cocked in that utterly disarming way that always signified she was going in for the kill during an interrogation. He gulped. Sharon Raydor's face popped into view behind Brenda as she propped herself up on her elbows. Her presence felt like a punch. Her naked body made his cock stir in his pants. It pissed him off.

"What the fuck, Brenda. Raydor!" He was a half-way decent profiler; a lot of things were falling into place for him. All the antagonism, the tension between the two of them. He should have seen it. He should have seen that something like this was going on.

He nearly threw up when Raydor smirked at him. Her luxurious dark auburn hair was disheveled, her lips swollen, her heavy, ivory breasts were flushed, the and worst of all her green eyes were dark with arousal and sparkling with a little mirth. She looked utterly wanton and utterly fuckable, and it made him sick.

"I believe you know Cap'n Raydor, Fritz. Deputy Chief now, I s'ppose. We were just celebrating her promotion. Was there anything in particular you wanted?" Her tone was light, mocking. She was shameless; they were shameless.

"Dyking it up, Brenda Leigh? Well, I'm glad to find out that what fucked up our marriage was your desire for dried up old cunt, and not anything that I did," he spat out. Brenda's jaw dropped and her eyes welled up with tears. He instantly felt bad about the outburst.

"Agent Howard," Raydor growled, "why don't you join me in the living room." She swung off the bed, keeping eye contact with him as she grabbed a robe and swung it around her shoulders. "And don't even think about running out of here, Fritz." Her voice was as low and calm as ever, and full of dangerous promise.

In silhouette, she was maybe more beautiful. Her silky hair brushed her shoulder blades lightly. Raydor's breasts were lovely and large and rode fairly low on her chest, the nipples slightly upturned. Her belly was rounded and a little soft, making a striking contrast with her ass and thighs, which were as defined and muscular as any observer of her frankly memorable calves would be lead to imagine. Brenda Leigh had slumped on the bed, turned her back to the door, drawn her knees up to her chest, and had begun to cry. Fritz couldn't stop looking at the woman who was fucking his wife.

He turned on his heel and managed to resist stomping down the hallway. He heard Raydor murmur something something to Brenda Leigh and heard Brenda Leigh murmur something back. He threw himself on the armchair and tried to keep himself from crossing his arms or pouting.

Raydor padded into the room on bare feet, glasses perched on her nose, hair pulled over one shoulder. Her robe was gray silk and short and rode up high on her thighs when she perched on the couch, knees pressed together and angled towards him.

"She was going to tell you this weekend." Raydor caught his eyes and kept the contact. "We weren't trying to hide, but we both needed to be on solid ground before we faced the department. My promotion made it easier, though."

"Brenda Leigh has agonized over this for months, Fritz. Over whether or not her latent attraction to women affected her relationships; every single romantic relationship she's ever had." She sighed and pushed her glasses further up her nose.

"We both know that Brenda isn't the most emotionally aware person in the world, and despite being happy in our relationship, she is really, really torn up about your marriage and how your life together ended and is trying to figure out what role her sexuality might have played in that."

He groaned and put his head in his hands. "Just tell me, Sharon, that you weren't sleeping together before we separated."

"Oh, Fritz, no. We weren't any more than cordial to one another until after. I know that our current relationship puts the tension we experienced at work in a different light, and I know you see that now." Her cheeks colored faintly. "I knew what it could be, and though I indulged my desire to protect Brenda quite frequently, I would never, ever break up someone else's relationship. At best, she saw me as a colleague who had her back." Her face was inscrutable as she let him digest.

He swallowed his pride and said something he should have said well over a year ago. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to let go of all my jealousy, Sharon, but you were a rock during the lawsuits. The difference between loyalty and protectiveness wasn't always apparent to Brenda, but I saw it. And I'll always be thankful."

"There are some other things, things about her past, that Brenda told me in confidence that I don't feel comfortable sharing. You'll have to talk to her about details, if you want them."

Fritz resisted the urge to refer to Raydor as 'that woman' in his internal monolgue. She was imminently reasonable, clearly had deep feelings for Brenda Leigh and wanted to make her happy. He steeled himself and met her eyes again. "I'm sorry about my outburst, Captain. It might take me a little time, but I will apologize to Brenda. Tell her that for me, please." Sometimes being an adult sucked.

"It's okay, Fritz. Take your time, but don't leave her on the hook too long, please. She's hurting." They both stood - Raydor's robe separated above the tie and the deep valley of her cleavage was on display. It took a long minute for him to drag his gaze away, and when his eyes met hers, she was smirking.


	2. Chapter 2

Detective Lieutenant Louie Provenza sauntered into O'Malley's, so very ready for a shot of whiskey and a very large draft beer. He could practically taste it - the perfect dinner after a long day of post-case paperwork. He was surprised to see Agent Fritz Howard slumped at the bar nursing what he hoped was a cranberry spritzer and staring at the array of whiskies behind the counter.

Provenza slid onto the stool next to Fritz. "Agent Howard." Fritz grunted a greeting.

"I understand the impulse to drown the sorrows of your divorce in a flood of whiskey, but I'm pretty sure that is something you don't want to do." Provenza had never been close to Howard, but he was a decent enough guy, and divorce was something of a hobby of his, and he certainly felt qualified to dispense advice on the matter.

"Is it that obvious?"

"The look on your face says 'how the hell did I get here' with a smidge of 'my ex is completely fucking nuts'." He chuckled. "I have a certainly familiarity with your ex's brand of crazy, you know."

"I'm not going to do anything stupid. Well, more stupid than sitting in a bar. Just thinking." Fritz smiled at Provenza, but it was more of a grimace.

"Can I do anything for you, Agent Howard? Lend an ear, maybe? I am six times experienced in the art of divorce. Perhaps I have some sage advice for you." Provenza signaled the bartender and pointed to Fritz's spritzer. If he was going to do this, he wasn't going to poke the hurting alcoholic.

Fritz was quiet a long minute after Provenza got his drink. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet.

"Brenda and Raydor are fucking." Provenza's gulp of spritzer went down his lungs.

"Huh." Provenza said after he finished his coughing fit. He contemplated a moment.

"Well, I guess it wasn't totally out of the realm of possibility. They always had a weird vibe between them." Fritz grunted. Provenza lost himself in thought again, trying extraordinarily hard to keep his mind from drifting to thoughts of his pretty, slender, vivacious deputy chief going at it with the bombshell of an FID captain.

"That is a dangerous image to put in a man's head, Fritz Howard," Provenza said seriously.

"Its probably a bit more alluring when it isn't your ex and you didn't walk in on it with no fucking clue." Fritz's expression was positively morose, and Provenza almost choked again.

"You saw them!" Proveza rolled his eyes heavenward. "Sweet Jesus. That's...I can't even... Holy shit, Howard." Fritz snorted.

"What happened? I mean, how did you happen upon such an event?"

Fritz sipped at his drink. "Stopped by the house to pick up my winter jacket. Didn't think anything of it as there was only one car in the drive. They were 'indisposed' and I didn't manage to get out of the house without stepping on a damn creaky floorboard."

"Ouch." Provenza cast a side-long glass at Fritz. "You know that using the key to a formerly shared domicile post-separation is pretty out of bounds, right."

"Yeahhhhhh, I think I learned my lesson."

"So what happened when they saw you?" Provenza was desperate to know what, exactly, Fritz had seen, but wouldn't ask.

"Brenda got defensive. Did that mocking head tilt thing she does." Provenza did indeed know that mocking head tilt. "And they were so unashamed, so calm, considering, that I got my guff up and played the ass and said some nasty things, blamed her for our relationship ending." Fritz looked like he might start to cry.

"And then Raydor was so civilized and nice and concerned - for me and for Brenda - that I felt like even more of an ass." He widened his eyes at Provenza. "Though I think she might kill me if I ever hurt Brenda's feelings again, and I doubt that anyone would find the body."

"So it's more than just them having sex. More serious?"

"Yeah. Brenda's not one for casual sex. And I can't imagine Raydor having an inter-office fuck buddy. I got the impression they have talked about their relationship and the implications a lot. Brenda was planning on telling me, before this whole fuck up." Provenza snorted at the unfortunate turn of phrase.

"So you're going to be ok with this, yeah?" Provenza is pretty sure Agent Howard was more disappointed in himself for hurting Brenda's feelings, even if the chief had her defensive up when it happened, than he was pissed that she was sleeping with Raydor.

"Yea, eventually. I just need a little time, I think." He smiled just enough for the corners of his eyes to crinkle. "Raydor is probably good for her. And she had Brenda's back at work when Brenda didn't know who to trust - when I wasn't being particularly supportive."

"Don't beat yourself up too much, Fritz. The chief is a resilient lady, and I'm sure she'll accept your apology when you're ready." He smirked. "She tends to be pretty forgiving of old flames."

"Yea, she always did give Pope more credit than he deserved." Provenza pulled a face at that. Pope was such a slime-ball.

"Even though inside, I'm squealing like a little girl for you to tell me everything, I'm only going to ask one prurient question. Well, two, but they're related."

"Shoot, I guess."

"Was Raydor in the buff?"

"Definitely."

"She hot?"

"Ungodly gorgeous. A complete knockout and sexier than any almost sixty year old should ever be."

"Knew it. Knew those power suits hid a killer body."

"She would eat you alive, Provenza. She is just as comfortable, and just as self-possessed, naked as she is in those power suits."

"I am so perversely glad you told me that, sir. I haven't the words."

"You'll keep this quiet, right? I don't want Brenda under pressure from the brass for this before she is ready."

"Of course. If you get wind of any trouble in regards to this, let me know and I'll rally the troops."

"Thanks for the ear Provenza. I needed to share this with someone, and I think someone who knows Brenda and Raydor wasn't the worst choice I could make."


	3. Chapter 3

Sargent David Gabriel sighed. The chief had left her cell at the office. And because he had been the one to notice it on the counter in the kitchenette when he had gone to put his mug in the dishwasher before leaving for the day, he was now stuck in traffic headed in the opposite direction of his home in order to take it to her.

He regretted only slightly not being able to call Agent Howard to tell her to come pick it up from the office herself, though he couldn't really mourn Fritz Howard's absence in the chief's life because the last year of their marriage had put a terrible strain on his boss. In fact, he was almost positive that the insecurity in her marriage and personal life had led her to clash so violently with Pope and Raydor and to react so insensibly to the lawsuit and transparency audits. Her interpersonal skills during that time were as bad as they had been when she had initially transferred to L.A., and it had worried him, because though he knew the chief would never win any prizes for her management style, they had a standard operating procedure that closed cases, and that S.O.P. had been severely affected by the collapse of the chief's marriage.

For a while even before they figured Fritz had left, the chief had been strangely quiet - contemplative, almost. In her relentlessly single-minded pursuit of her cases, she was the same, and in the interrogation room, she was the same chameleon personality that changed to whatever the situation dictated. But the combativeness that she usually employed to deal with brass and the Fed and politicians was nearly non-existent, as was the honey-dripped, southern drawl flirting. Her near silence had been unnerving.

Then one Monday morning, she breezed into the murder room with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye that hadn't been there in many a month. She looked happy. And she was a little different, after this happy Monday morning - more prone to consider the suggestions and viewpoints of others and more likely to explain her thought processes, both things that had made the office a much more congenial place, though sometimes Gabriel didn't know whether or not to be grateful to have a window into the mind of CIA trained interrogator. It could be a little scary.

He pulled up in front of the chief's apartment. It was dark and there were no cars in the drive. Gabriel resisted the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel. He would give her ten minutes. The chief's cell phone chirped its cheery little text message noise (another recent addition to the chief's repertoire). Gabriel fished it out of his pocket. Maybe the text message could give him a little insight as to where the chief was.

From: Shari

Where are you, baby? Dinner's getting cold.

Gabriel's jaw dropped. He recognized the phone number. It was Sharon Raydor's. Raydor and the chief were...? Oh dear god. He had seen the antagonism decrease between them in the past few months, definitely. Now when they butted heads, it seemed more like a game they had both been anticipating, and there was always a great deal of eye contact between the two, even if they weren't verbally friendly. Now they were sharing a meal. And Raydor was calling the chief 'baby'. The phone chirped again.

From: Shari

And gorgeous girl, you'd better be ready for me tonight. This 3 day dry streak has me aching for you.

Now Gabriel needed some bleach for his brain. At least he knew where to take the phone, although the circumstances of the delivery could be a little awkward. The question was whether or not it was more awkward than the chief not getting a call if they got a body, or having to call Raydor to get ahold of the chief if they got a call out. He guessed he could always fake a call to Raydor on the pretense of looking for the chief. Ultimately, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep the chief from knowing he knew something, so ripping the bandaid off was the best strategy.

He sighed. Raydor lived about ten minutes back towards his place. Gabriel turned the car back on and pulled back into traffic.

Raydor lived in a quaint little craftsman on a tree lined street not far from the LAPD headquarters. Gabriel parked in front of the house and headed up the walkway. The large picture windows on the front porch were lit up with warm yellow light. In the dining room window, Gabriel saw the chief's slender form lean into Raydor's curvier body. She tucked her head into the older woman's shoulder and Raydor wrapped her arms around her. They stayed like that a moment - Raydor's eyes dropped closed and a smiled lifted the corners of her mouth. They pulled apart a little and kissed. Gabriel gritted his teeth and rang the doorbell.

Raydor answered the door. She looked immaculate as always in a deep red jersey wrap dress. Her feet were bare and she had a wine glass in her hand.

"Detective Gabriel! This is a surprise. What can I do for you this evening?"

He didn't know what to say. He fished the phone out of his pocket and tried to hand it to her, widening his eyes a little. She smirked, biting her lip in amusement, but didn't take the phone.

"Brenda Leigh, darling," she called into the house. "Gabriel has brought you your phone." So this was how she was going to play it; her face looked like mischief. "Come on in, David. Brenda Leigh just went to change her clothes." Oh dear god.

"That's ok Captain, I mean Chief Raydor, I'll just head on home." Still holding the phone in front like some sort of offering to the gods of awkwardness, Gabriel tried not just turn and run, because holy shit this was awkward.

"No, I insist, David." She gestured past her into the house. He gritted his teeth and stepped in. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

"No thank you, m'am." The chief flounced down the stairs then, in yoga pants and a soft tunic shirt. Her hair was pulled back and she looked impossibly young and very cheerful.

"David! Thank you so much for saving me the trip back to headquarters. Now I can have a glass of wine with dinner." She plucked the phone from his hand and checked for missed calls. Her cheeks flushed red but she grinned and her brown eyes sparkled. "Oh Shari, you're terrible. Just awful." She turned the grin on Gabriel and Gabriel fought off a cringe.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Gabriel shifted his weight towards the door. "It was no problem, chief. I'll just...see you tomorrow, ok?"

"Alright then, thank you again, David." She leaned into Raydor's side and the brunette slid an arm around her waist. Gabriel turned on his heel, opened the door himself and fled down the sidewalk. He could hear the chief's giggle follow him back to the car.


	4. Chapter 4

Fridays have been date nights for Brenda Leigh and Sharon for the past four months, something they instituted not long after their relationship began. Though they spend four or five nights a week together, and have been since they started dating, Fridays, they go out. At first, their date nights were spent in out of the way restaurants or quiet clubs where they wouldn't encounter any co-workers. They shared many meals, many bottles of wine and talked for hours and hours.

Sharon has found she loves to dress the chief for their nights on the town. Tonight she laid out a slinky black Calvin Klein sheath that would leave her lover's delicately muscled back bare from the nape of her neck to the lovely dimples just above her buttocks. She also placed on the bed a shoe box, beautifully wrapped. Brenda Leigh's black pumps had been scuffed horribly at a crime scene a few weeks ago, and Sharon had been unable to walk by the three inch black lambskin Louboutins when she had been shopping downtown last weekend.

For herself, Sharon had chosen a Balenciaga cocktail dress that quite prominently displayed her chest and cleavage. It was the color of Brenda Leigh's favorite merlot and made of a few layers of sheer organza. Without the color matched strapless balconette bra that she wore underneath, every dimple and pucker of her areola would be visible to her lover through the dress. Sharon Raydor had stacked the deck in favor of getting very, very lucky later that evening.

This Friday night, Brenda Leigh and Sharon had already shared a delicious meal and a lovely bottle of merlot at a very nice restaurant. Now they were going to share the dance floor at a nice little club for women that they discovered a few weeks before. Sharon Raydor loves to dance and Brenda Leigh Johnson loves to watch her.

At the club, Sharon coat checked their wraps and clutches and tucked the ticket into her bra. Brenda had a possessive hand on the small of the older woman's back as soon as they walked in the door. Every time they go dancing, every single person in the establishment either hits on Sharon or has to restrain their date from doing so. Every time Sharon only had eyes for Brenda Leigh, and Brenda Leigh never felt more beautiful.

They started with a slow dance, bodies pressed together from knee to forehead. Brenda Leigh looked deep into the light green eyes of the woman that routinely captivated, infuriated and intoxicated her and wondered, as always, how she had gotten so lucky. She could feel Sharon's fingers ghosting along her spine, dusting the top of her tailbone.

When the music got faster, horns with a rumbling percussion line, they dance like they used to fight; fierce and combative and full of tension, but they were dancing close and the tension was just for them, just they way they'd found they liked it.

They danced for over an hour like this, taking a break for water and sitting out a few fast ones in order to conserve energy. After a final slow dance where Sharon found herself sliding her hand up the inside of Brenda Leigh's thighs almost to their apex, they claimed their outerwear and bags and slipped out into the street, hand in hand.

The L.A. night was cool and the normally busy streets were empty. Brenda Leigh and Sharon's heels clicked echoing-ly across the sidewalks. As they approached the alley that ran alongside the warehouse that contained the club, they heard a scream and a wet squelch that was almost certainly the sound of something hard hitting flesh. They froze. Brenda Leigh snapped open her clutch and pulled out a snub nosed .22 revolver.

"You checked a bag that had a gun in it, Brenda Leigh?" Sharon hissed.

Brenda Leigh didn't fight the urge to roll her eyes, knowing it was too dark for Sharon to see.

"It's not like this dress left me a place to hide my gun, Shari. I coulda worn a thigh holster, but then you woulda gotten a nasty surprise when you were feeling me up so sweetly back in that club." She popped open the cylinder, spun it once, and slapped it shut quietly.

"Got your badge, baby?" Brenda asked. Sharon nodded, and they both crept down the alley, doing their best to keep the heels of their shoes from making too much noise.

Just past the dumpster at the edge of the building, the security lights illuminated a man crouched over an inert figure sprawled supine on the pavement.

Brenda trained her gun on the man. "LAPD. Put your hands on your head." Brenda's voice was steady and loud. Sharon saw the man tense like he was going to run. She readied herself to chase if he did, prepared to kick off her shoes and hitch up her dress. She really did not want to tackle someone in this dress.

"If you run, I will shoot you because I am sure as hell not running in these shoes." Brenda Leigh was pissed. She could see her plans for the rest of the evening rapidly circling the drain. "Now put your hands on your head and move away from the body."

The suspect inched away from the figure on the ground. "Further. Good, face down on the pavement. Now move, and I'll put a bullet between your shoulder blades. Do you have cuffs, Shari, or are we just going to have wait this out?"

"Yea, I got it chief. Cover me." Sharon rummaged in the evening bag she carried.

"Always. Cuff him and check the victim; I'll call it in."

Sharon put a knee on the man's back and wrenched his arms down to cuff him. She slapped the cuffs on maybe a little harder than necessary and flipped the perp onto his side. Positional asphyxia of a suspect was the last thing they needed tonight.

The victim was a young woman dressed up for a night out. There were darkening bruises on her face and neck, but Sharon found a strong pulse. She did her best to touch nothing else, hoping to preserve any evidence for the eventual investigators.

"She's alive Brenda."

Brenda was already on the phone with the desk sergeant at HQ. "This is Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson. I've got an assault victim and suspect in the alley off 901 East First Street. I need a bus and back up at my location, post haste." She hung up and returned her off hand to the pistol.

Then she stomped her beautifully shod foot and said petulantly, "This is just absurd. All I want is to go home and have sex, Shari. All that build up wasted."

Sharon chuckled. "Crime can be such a cock block, baby," she said, catching her lover's eye across the alleyway. Brenda Leigh scowled at her.

Sharon knelt next to the victim on her folded wrap, a hand on the young woman's shoulder, murmuring softly to the unconscious woman. She could hear the sirens already.

The bus pulled up first. Brenda moved out of the way of the paramedics, still keeping her gun trained on the suspect. Sharon rose to stand next to the chief, flashing her badge at the paramedics as they bustled by with their bags. They stood next to each other quietly, knowing that the next couple of hours would be full of questions. Sharon brushed her fingers across the skirt of Brenda Leigh's dress, wanting nothing more than to hold her lover's hand.

A black and white pulled up, lights flashing. Two uniforms jumped out of the car, guns trained on...Brenda?

Sharon reacted before Brenda could get her ire up. "Honestly, boys," she said in that calm voice that characterized most of her professional dealings. She showed her badge to the two impossibly young uniforms. Brenda smirked when she saw them cringe at Sharon's unmistakeable voice dripping with sarcasm. "Would you please take custody of the suspect so Chief Johnson can put her weapon away."

"Yes, Chief Raydor. Sorry, m'am." The uni's holstered their weapons and hauled the man to his feet.

"Mirandize him proper, gentlemen." Brenda said firmly as she tucked her gun back in her clutch.

Brenda and Sharon loitered as the paramedics finished up the victim. She was going to Good Samaritan for a concussion and a rape kit, though the paramedics didn't think the suspect got to do anything more than pry her legs apart before Brenda and Sharon had intervened.

SID showed up as the bus pulled out. And then two unmarkeds carrying Flynn and Provenza and Chief Pope pulled up.

"Oh joyous day, the calvary is here." Brenda whispered sarcastically to Sharon.

Pope slid under the crime scene tape while Flynn and Provenza conversed with the uniforms.

"Will, this is an unexpected surprise. I can't recall the last time I saw you at a crime scene after close of business." The honeyed sarcasm was just dripping off her drawl.

"Play nice, Brenda Leigh. I still have plans for you and pissing off Pope won't get us home in bed any faster." Sharon said in a low voice. Brenda flushed.

"Good evening ladies. I'm actually here to give you a case, Chief Johnson. You two may have just caught the rapist that has been operating in this area for the past month."

"And this is a major crime how, Chief Pope?"

"Well Brenda, I have two other rape victims, almost no forensic evidence, and now I have a suspect caught in the act. I need a confession. Last time I checked, that was supposed to be your speciality."

The SID techs snapped on their portable lights. Brenda Leigh thought Will's eyes were going to pop out of his head when he got a look at Sharon's dress. His expression blanked out and whatever he had been about to say had clearly flown from his head.

"Eyes up, William," Brenda Leigh growled. It took a moment for the intelligence to return to Pope's eyes, even with both women scowling at him.

"What were you two doing down here any way? Isn't it a little late for you, Brenda?" Pope's eyes keep trailing down to Sharon's cleavage.

"Friday date night, Will. Dinner at Soho House. Dancing at Blush, not that it's even a little of your business." Sharon bit her lip to keep from laughing.

The look on Pope's face was comically blank. "Date night? You two are double dating now? Where are the lucky gentlemen?"

"Oh for Christ's sake, Will. I had dinner and went dancing with my girlfriend. And if you could kindly keep your eyes out of her décolletage, it would make me ever so happy."

"Your GIRLFRIEND, Brenda?" Pope's voice was loud and a little hysterical. Brenda Leigh slid her hand into Sharon's. Will worked himself into a tizzy. "I would say I can't believe your behavior, but dear god I shouldn't be surprised be anything anymore."

"Calm down, Will. Getting worked up like this can't be good for your health." Pope's face was a particularly alarming shade of purple, and it seemed that he could no longer form words. Brenda seemed satisfied by this outcome.

Looking up from where he and Flynn were discussing nothing that had to do with how attractive the two female chiefs looked, Provenza thought it was time to intervene before his chief pistol whipped Pope for ogling Raydor.

Provenza had been in Andy's basement shooting pool and keeping an eye on the Dodger's game when the desk sergeant at HQ had called to give him the heads up about the chief's involvement in apprehending a potential rapist. In the car, he had informed Flynn that Chief Johnson had probably been out with Raydor:

"I think they usually go out on Fridays, yea." Andy said nonchalantly. Provenza was incensed.

"What? How did you know that? How long have you known?" His eyes bugged out a little.

"We are supposed to be detectives, Louie." Andy's voice held a note of reproach, but Provenza continued to give him the gimlet eye.

"Fine. I saw them having a moment in the stairwell a few months back."

"A moment? Do tell." Provenza waggled his eyebrows.

"You are such a perv." Andy's voice was definitely disapproving now. "It wasn't like that. Raydor was working on that case where that little girl got caught in the crossfire between her bastard father and those poor SOB's from Hollywood division. The chief was giving Raydor a little TLC. It was pretty sweet, actually." Provenza looked a little disappointed that there were no prurient details to be had.

"How did you find out about them, Louie?"

"Fritz." Flynn shot him a look. "Poor bastard walked in on them at their old apartment. Got an eyeful." Andy laughed outright.

"Using the key to a previously shared domicile without permission. That's rule number 16, isn't it?"

"The very same."

"We should publish those or something."

At the sound of Pope's raised voice, Flynn had sidled away from their conversation, plowed in to the awkward and tense huddle of chiefs, and turned on his smarmiest charm.

"Chief Johnson, Chief Raydor. You're both looking fabulous tonight. If you will just step over to the car, Provenza and I will take your statements and then the two of you can be on your way."

"Bless you, Lieutenant Flynn." She squeezed Sharon's hand. "Shari, you want to go with Andy and I'll take Provenza."

It took all of fifteen minutes for Brenda Leigh's detectives to take their statements. The suspect would be waiting at HQ for Brenda in the morning, and the victim's concussion would make talking to her difficult until early afternoon at the soonest.

As Brenda signed her statement, Provenza did his best to not ogle the bare back of his chief.

"That is some dress, chief."

"Thank you, Louie. It was a gift from Sharon. The shoes too." She smirked at the Lieutenant. "I am just glad I didn't have to tackle anyone, tonight." She cut her eyes over at Pope. "Though I might still have to."

"Ah, about that, Chief. Don't worry about anything with the squad. We're all in your corner, you know."

"Are you sure you aren't saying that because you'd rather see me kiss Sharon than fight with her?" The chief's eyes were sparkling with humor.

"Well, that might be number one on my priority list, but you've been happy the past few months, and if Raydor is partly responsible for that, I'm all for it."

"Thank you, Louie. And don't worry, I won't let it get out that you're an old romantic softie."

"I appreciate that courtesy, Chief. You two go on home now. Flynn and I will deal with Pope."

"No, lieutenant, Pope is Sharon and my problem. Let us handle him."

Brenda excused herself and slipped back under the crime scene tape to where Pope hadn't moved since she and Sharon had excused themselves. She bit back the urge to be rude, to be defensive. She and Sharon were done with hiding, done with going to Santa Monica and Long Beach and Santa Ana for dinner and dancing. This had been their first date night in L.A. - the first where they had comported themselves as a couple - and with the exception of the whole interrupting a rape in progress thing, and the whole catching a case thing, it had been a wonderful, romantic evening. She needed, if not Will's support, then his recognition that this wasn't going away, and that she wouldn't be intimidated.

"Chief Pope." He didn't respond and she stepped closer. "Will. SID and the uniforms want to wrap up here." She touched him on the arm. He started. "Will. It's time to leave." When he came back to himself, she was glad to see that there was no longer anger in his face. She opened her mouth again, but he stopped her.

"Brenda. I'm not mad anymore. Just..." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sometimes, the things you do just completely fall outside the realm of what I think is possible." Brenda had to count to ten before answering to keep from laying into him. The man was lucky he was her boss, because if this was purely personal, she would have slapped him.

"My personal life has been none of your business for nearly two decades, Will. And as for the professional, we took steps with HR months ago, to protect the chain of command and any performance reviews and hiring and firing and such."

"I'm glad to know that Raydor has done at least a little to temper your usual disregard for procedure."

"She can be quite persuasive, when she's motivated." She shot Will a wicked smirk that was also part sneer. He shifted uncomfortably, knowing he was treading the line where she would take off the gloves that protected their working relationship.

"If we're finished here, Chief Pope, I would like to go home. I'll talk to the suspect and the victim in the morning after I check the case files for the other two rapes. And Monday I'll have the HR woman we talked to fax you the paperwork we had put together."

"Don't forget. And play it smart, Brenda. I don't need egg on my face for this."

She turned without another word and headed back to where Raydor was waiting, leaning against the bumper of Flynn and Provenza's Crown Vic. The look on Raydor's face when she made eye contact with Brenda was intense and full of a promise that Will couldn't let himself think about. He just hoped that this didn't blow up for anyone, especially him.


	5. Chapter 5, part 1

Brenda Leigh Johnson was losing her mind. Well, even more than usual. Two months ago, not long after they had been outed to the entire LAPD (a situation which Brenda had waltzed through with almost no neurotic episodes), Sharon had asked Brenda Leigh to move in with her. Brenda had accepted happily, joyfully, even, and it had made Sharon's heart light to have her accept so readily. But now, it was time for Clay and Willie Rae's yearly summer visit, and the other shoe had dropped.

Sharon had been encouraging Brenda to take small steps in informing her parents about the changes she had made in her life. She held Brenda's hand while she informed them about the divorce; had been rubbing her feet when she told them she was seeing someone new, and had cradled Brenda in her arms when Brenda resisted the pressure her mother and father put on her to talk about her new 'man'.

But now they were out of time for controlled revelations. Clay and Willie Rae could not be diverted. In fact, even suggesting that they move the visit to July versus June had sent Clay into a rant of epic proportions that had Brenda Leigh in tears. Sharon had gently pried the phone from the sobbing woman's hands, cut Clay off short and told him to maybe call back later, if he could manage to be civil. Sharon wanted to get along with Brenda's parents, but the woman in her arms was her priority.

Clay and Willie Rae were due in tomorrow, and Sharon could see Brenda Leigh was nervous, but she was putting on a good show in the interest of having a pleasant evening alone before a week with the 'in-laws'. They had had a nice dinner - white chicken chili from the crock pot - and a smooth, sweet Riesling from Sharon's collection. After, Brenda Leigh had treated herself to a ding-dong, and Sharon had treated herself to the cream and chocolate crumbs on Brenda Leigh's lips. Now Sharon was reading a book about water rights in California, and Brenda was indulging in a New York Times Crossword (Wednesday) that Sharon had printed off the internet for her.

It had taken the first month that they were seriously dating for Sharon to convince Brenda that more regular hours wouldn't impact her case closure rate, not when she could know everything her team knew when they knew it through texts, emails and the dedicated Major Crimes media server that Brenda could access through her new laptop. It hadn't taken as much convincing for Brenda to realize that regular hours were much more conducive to getting to know her new girlfriend because initially, Sharon had blatantly bribed her; home cooked meals whenever she made it to Sharon's before 7:00, paired specially with wines from Sharon's well-stocked pantry, along with desserts containing chocolate, if she would do her damnedest to leave work by 6:30 to come and eat, and spend at least two hours enjoying her meal and doing something not work related.

The first few times had been a little awkward - Brenda really had trouble letting go of whatever investigation was on her plate even if she wasn't in the office, but then one night, Sharon really saw a difference in the chief, like Brenda had wanted to be in that moment with her and nowhere else; she had even left her bag of tricks in the car (a symbolic gesture, Sharon felt) and exiled her cell phone to the table beside Sharon's door.

Months of 'practice' had made her lover much more likely to indulge in forms of relaxation other than killing a bottle of wine over case files, though she still had the occasional relapse, and now Sharon was hoping to indulge in one of their favorite shared past times. She trailed her fingers through Brenda's blonde locks and over the sensitive spot at the hinge of her jaw and along the side of her neck. Brenda closed her eyes and sighed happily.

"You must be a mind reader, my Cap'n Raydor. But before I throw you down on this couch and have my wicked little way with you, hold that thought." She rolled off Sharon's lap and grabbed up her purse from where it rested by the door. She rummaged around for a minute, and then grinned slyly at Sharon, pulling out a hunter green wrapped package.

"Now, I'm not tryin' to bribe you to be nice to my parents, I actually got this weeks ago and had to wait for the engraving. But I think the timin' doesn't hurt any." She handed Sharon the package and perched next to her on the sofa. Sharon put her book on the end table and gave her lover a sidelong look - Brenda was practically vibrating in anticipation. Sharon slowly pulled the tape off the ends of the package and slowllllly flipped the box over and did the same. When she pulled the paper off, she saw the distinctive crown logo of Rolex stamped in the leather jewelry box. Sharon gasped and put a hand to her mouth. She launched herself at Brenda and kissed her deeply, pushing her back onto the couch.

"Baby, baby. Why don't you see if you like it first, and then we can commence with the love making."

Sharon didn't bother letting Brenda Leigh up while she opened the box. Inside was a white gold dress band watch - a lady Datejust, if she wasn't mistaken. It was lovely and as understated as a Rolex could be. She pulled it from the box.

"Turn it over." On the case was engraved: 'I have your back, always. Love, BL.'

"Oh, honey. It's beautiful, I love it."

"I know you said you a prefer cheap watch to wear to work because you never know where it'll end up, but with your promotion and all...plus, I had it insured against all crazy, cop related damage." Sharon laughed.

"I'm sure that was an interesting conversation. It's perfect. You are perfect." She kissed Brenda again. "Mostly, anyway." Brenda nipped her on the lower lip and Sharon yelped. Sharon undid the clasp of the watch and slid it on to her left wrist, shifting her weight from her elbows to her knees, one of which she pressed against Brenda's center. The brunette could feel the heat radiating from between the blonde's legs even through two layers of denim. Brenda Leigh's eyes fluttered shut and she moaned. The watch fit Sharon's wrist perfectly.

"I love you, Sharon Raydor. She ground her pussy against Sharon's thigh and moaned again. "Now take me to bed."

"Mmmm, gladly." She kissed Brenda again and levered herself up, pulled Brenda off the couch and into her body, sliding her thigh in between the smaller woman's legs again. The blonde's brown eyes were almost black with arousal, and she began to move her hips again.

"I love how fast you get turned on," Sharon purred, palming Brenda's ass and pulling the cheeks apart gently.

"It's you baby. You make me crazy." She kissed Sharon again and groaned. "I need you to fuck me, Shari."

Sharon brought a hand around to unsnap Brenda's jeans and pull down the zipper. She slipped a hand inside her panties, brushing her fingers across the blonde's clit. Brenda groaned, dropping her head to Sharon's shoulder.

Sharon gasped at how wet Brenda was, though she shouldn't be surprised; the woman went from zero to soaked in 3.6 seconds.

"I need you naked on my bed, like 30 seconds ago, and that's an order, Chief Johnson."

"Aye, aye, my Cap'n Raydor." Brenda was on the stairs like a shot, shucking off her clothes as she went. Sharon followed at a more sedate pace, knowing waiting would drive Brenda up a wall.

When Sharon sauntered into the bedroom, Brenda Leigh was on the bed, naked and looking at Sharon with hunger in her eyes. Sharon smirked at her and began to unbutton her blouse. She undressed at a leisurely pace, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Brenda was squirming on the bed under her gaze, and her arousal was deeply satisfying to Sharon, who took a minute to stand and just look at the woman who was waiting for her, absently caressing the watch on her wrist.

"Shari, please," Brenda whined. She was very nearly panting.

"Do you want my fingers, Brenda Leigh, or do you want my cock?" Sharon had to fight to keep her voice at its normal register, knowing that Brenda could see the arousal in her eyes, could see her nipples were hard, could see that she was wet, too, but knowing that Brenda loved it when she affected nonchalance.

"You decide, baby. Just fuck me already, please." She rolled her hips to entice Sharon to hurry up and make her decision already.

Sharon opened the nightstand drawer that housed their small collection of sex toys and removed their strapless dildo. She tossed the item on the bed and crawled on and positioned herself over Brenda, kissing the blonde with all the ardor she felt.

"Bren, I need you to get me wet enough for the dildo." Brenda growled in frustration, but reached up to palm Sharon's breasts, rolling the older woman's nipples in her fingers, pulling them in just the way she knew Sharon liked it. She lifted a knee and Sharon began to ride the chief's muscular thigh. Brenda groaned at the feeling of the other woman's need painting her skin.

"God, now I want to fuck you, Shari."

"Me first," Sharon rasped, fumbling for the dildo and popping the bulbous end into her pussy. She lowered her hips, trailed the tip of the cock along Brenda's sopping slit once, and then thrust forward, entering Brenda in one smooth motion. Brenda cried out, and Sharon paused a moment and rested her weight on Brenda's slender form. She wanted the blonde to feel their connection; flushed skin on skin, their centers pressed together, joined by the warm silicon of the dildo. It didn't take much imagining for Sharon to feel the walls of Brenda's pussy flexing around 'her' cock.

Sharon fucked Brenda with long, slow strokes, withdrawing almost completely before stroking back in. She put a little force behind her efforts, and was rewarded with rhythmic gasps and grunts from her lover. It didn't take long at all for Brenda to throw her legs around Sharon's waist, forcing her to shorten her strokes. She didn't change the pace though, and soon Brenda was trapped in that moment where inhalation seemed impossible.

"Ahh, ahh, ahh," she bit out, and then her back arched and she came with a wail. She slumped back to the bed, flushed and sweating, her legs suddenly limp, her face slack and still. Sharon used her hips to twitch the dildo a bit, eliciting shuddering aftershocks through the blonde's frame.

"Well, that took no time at all," Brenda husked, her eyes still closed, though her lips quirked up in a smirk. It was a shared joke that together they orgasmed faster than a pair of teenaged boys. Sharon was just grateful that they recovered faster than said boys.

Brenda reached between their bodies and pulled the dildo from them, her fingers lingering on the lip's of the brunette's pussy. She purred at the wetness she felt, and Sharon moaned and twitched her hips at the contact.

"Why don't you climb on up here and sit on my face, beautiful. You are so very, very wet, and I want so very much to taste you, but I am much too relaxed to move."

Sharon rose to her knees and shuffled awkwardly up the blonde's body, trailing her wetness across her belly and breasts before hovering over Brenda's chin. She knew the younger woman liked this position; liked the feeling of Sharon's knees constraining her head, liked the feeling of her nipples brushing against the brunette's ass, and loved it when Sharon lost control enough to nearly drown her in desire.

Brenda's mouth against her was deliberate, controlled, like she was eating the sweetest, juiciest peach she had ever encountered, and wanted to savor every single bite. Brenda's hands were on her ass, clutching her, pulling her forward on her tongue relentlessly. After the stimulation of fucking Brenda, it was mere moments before Sharon fell forward bonelessly, making an effort not to suffocate her lover even as she enjoyed the aftershocks from her orgasm. She rolled off the blonde, tucking herself into her side. They were still for a long moment, catching their breath, then Brenda rolled on top of her and kissed her with hungry intent. Round two, goody.

Sharon woke in her usual position; spooned behind Brenda, one hand tucked possessively around her stomach. She arched her back a little, stretching out muscles that had been well worked the night before.

"You awake now, Shari?"

"Mmmm, yea." Sharon's voice sounded rough to her own ears. "Morning, gorgeous."

Brenda squirmed in Sharon's grasp, flipping over to face her. She looked coyly into Sharon's green eyes through her eyelashes, then shifted her hips enticingly.

"More, please." She brought her pussy into firmer contact with Sharon's thigh and groaned, rolling her eyes back in head.

"As much as I want to take you up on that oh so subtle offer, Brenda Leigh, we don't have time."

"We certainly have plenty of time for me to grind myself against your leg while looking into your pretty eyes, Sharon Raydor."

"Well, that hardly seems fair."

"Fine, fine, I'll fuck you while I make myself come. Deal?" Brenda slipped a hand between their bodies and brushed her fingers against Sharon's clit. "You witch! You're protesting, but you're hotter than a furnace and dripping down your legs." She slid two fingers into the moist, velvety heat and Sharon groaned. Brenda ground her own pussy against Sharon's thigh in time with her strokes.

"It took so long for you to wake up," Brenda panted into Sharon's ear. "This whole room smells like you, like us together..." She moaned, thrusting more frantically against Sharon's thigh and cupping her palm to provide contact for the brunette's clit. Past coherence, she threw her head back and came, the spasms of her hand sending Sharon over the edge with her.

"That was just lovely," Brenda sighed into Sharon's neck. She pressed sweet, closed mouth kisses along the line of her jaw. "I love you, Sharon."


	6. Chapter 5, part 2

Brenda was utterly silent in the car on the way to LAX, her hand resting on Sharon's thigh, eyes locked on the traffic whizzing by outside. Normally, Sharon would be grateful that Brenda wasn't warbling along with the radio, but this was not usual, nor did it bode well for the rest of the day.

Sharon took a hand off the wheel to lift Brenda's hand to her face, kissing her fingers sweetly.

"It's going to be ok, Brenda." Brenda managed a small smile and cupped Sharon's cheek, her fingers playing in the hair at her temples.

"I know, Shari." She traced her fingers around the curve of Sharon's ear. "But it will be very, very awkward before it's ok."

"Probably. Just remember what I said; if you need a time out, let me be the bad guy, honey." Brenda squeezed Sharon's shoulder before letting her hand fall back into her lap.

Sharon was leaning against the side of her Tahoe, parked in the pick-up lane at the airport, when her phone chirped. A text from Brenda.

From: BLJ

We have a surprise visitor! My niece hitched a ride from ATL. Baggage claim, out in 10.

Sharon choked back a laugh and let her head clunk lightly on the window behind her. A wild card thrown in a deck that was already full of crazy.

Nearly 20 minutes later, after Sharon had begun to wonder if someone had had a fatal accident with an escalator, Brenda stormed out of the building dragging two large rolling suitcases behind her. Charlie was tripping at Brenda's heels, a duffle slung across her back. The automatic doors closed, and then opened again to spit Willie Rae and Clay onto the sidewalk. They looked as out of place in LA as ever. Sharon was pretty sure Clay's t-shirt had wolves on it. She popped the trunk on the Tahoe and hurried to take one of the suitcases from her girlfriend.

Sharon's truck didn't have a third row of seats, and as Brenda explained to her parents that they were going to Sharon's house because that's where she lived now, she had to endure Charlie, elbows propped on the center console, smirking at her as she navigated weekend traffic. Sharon resolutely ignored her. Clay, in the passenger seat, was oblivious to everything but the bullying he was presently engaged in.

"Daddy, I tried to tell you that I moved, but you were making it hard - even though you know I have a hard time talking to you about personal stuff." Brenda's voice sounded small. Sharon wanted to smack the man in the back of his bald head and apparently the look on her face was slightly dangerous because Charlie leaned back, clearly not wanting to be in the line of fire.

"I don't remember you trying to tell me any such thing," he grouched. "I do remember this woman," he cut his eyes at Sharon, "hanging up on me the last time I talked to you."

"Daddy, I let her take the phone from me because you were making me cry." Sharon checked Brenda's appearance in the rearview, catching her gaze; Brenda's brown eyes were a little watery. Clay's mustache twitched in disapproval.

"Daddy, Shari's house is much nicer than the apartment. Just hold off on your judgement until after we grill up our lunch on the back porch, ok?" Clay remained silent. In the back seat, Charlie clasped her aunt's clammy hand in her own and squeezed.

Willie Rae was charmed by Sharon's house; she stood on the sidewalk, exclaiming over the landscaping and the porch and the lovely shade trees while Sharon and Brenda and Charlie carted the luggage into the front room. Clay made no move to get out of the car. Wille Rae paid him no mind as she knelt to examine the flowers and shrubs bordering the front walk.

Charlie dropped her duffle and laptop bag on the floor and collapsed on the love seat; Sharon sat herself on the couch with aplomb. Brenda stood in the open doorway, watching as her mother indulged her inner gardener while ignoring her sulking husband.

"Momma, are you and Daddy gonna come on in the house?" Sharon didn't think she sounded like she actually wanted them to.

"We'll be along shortly, dear. I'll just let your father pout for a few minutes more." Brenda shut the door and moved to sit next to Sharon on the couch. Charlie eyed them both contemplatively.

"So Aunt Brenda, how long have you and Sharon been together?" She asked, humor lacing her tone.

Brenda flushed lightly and glanced at Sharon, who rolled her eyes a little and smirked.

"Are we that obvious?"

"A little bit Aunt Brenda. You can't keep your eyes off each other." Brenda blushed deeper and Sharon couldn't help her smile. It was true, they couldn't.

"She's right, Brenda Leigh." Sharon said in a lightly mocking voice. "When you aren't touching me, you look at me like you really, really wanna touch me."

Now Brenda was positively scarlet. "Like you don't do the same thing, Sharon Raydor." Sharon merely grinned at her, unrepentant. "We've been together a while, Charlie. About 8 months." Charlie bobbed her head, pursing her lips in almost the same way Brenda did when she had something on her mind.

"You're teasing each other like it's been longer." She pursed her lips a little. "Hadn't gotten around to telling Grandma and Grandpa?" There wasn't any censure in her voice; Charlie was familiar with the ways in which Clay Johnson could make life uncomfortable for his loved ones, even though she was almost always indulged by the man. Brenda lifted one shoulder in response.

"I hadn't quite gotten to it. Baby steps, Charlie. You know how he can be."

"Well, he can always get a hotel if he can't deal," Charlie said, resolute. Sharon chuckled. Those were her feelings exactly. She slid her arm around Brenda's shoulders and pulled the other woman into her body.

"Sharon's been saying the same thing for the past two weeks, kiddo." She leaned over to kiss the brunette's cheek, and brought a palm up to her cheek. "Now, I'm starving. Let's get started on the burgers."

By the time Willie Rae had cajoled Clay in from the car, Sharon had orchestrated a kitchen assembly line for her patented meatloaf burgers. Sharon was chopping onions and carrots, Brenda was wrist deep in a bowl full of ground turkey, and Charlie was slicing fruit for sangria. Willie Rae manhandled her husband into a kitchen chair - one of the vintage 1950's ones from Brenda's old kitchen, though the vinyl was new.

"Brenda, this old dining set looks so nice! It spiffed up very well." Willie Rae ran her hand over the surface of the table; it had been sanded and re-polyurethaned.

"Thanks, momma. Shari and I redid it a few weekends ago." She splashed more Worcestershire into the bowl of meat and kneaded it roughly. Sharon finished with the vegetables and scraped them into the bowl for Brenda to mix in. She washed her hands.

"Clay, Willie Rae, would you prefer white or red wine for the sangria?" Clay twitched his mustache and remained silent.

"I prefer red wine, Sharon, dear. Brenda comes by that preference honestly."

"Merlot then." She opened the wine pantry and pulled out two bottles of a California red Brenda was fond of. She also liberated the brandy, figuring they could all use the extra alcohol. She set the booze and pitcher on the table in front of Brenda's parents and set about opening the wine bottles.

With the burgers on the Sharon-manned grill, the rolls lightly buttered and toasting, salad tossed and ready and tall tumblers of sangria for all of-age imbibers, Brenda was setting the table while Sharon hovered in the door that lead to her back porch, eyeing the grill for any flare ups.

Willie Rae was happily informing Brenda that they were under strict orders to visit UCLA and USC with Charlie this week - the reason for the surprise visitor. They had tours scheduled for Tuesday and Thursday. Brenda was making appropriate noises in the right places, though she actually looked interested when Charlie mentioned programs she was interested in looking into. Sharon was having a hard time keeping her eyes off her lover's ass in the jeans she was wearing. Clay still hadn't said a word.

Brenda was halfway through her burger when her daddy opened his mouth for the first time in over two hours.

"So this is how it is now, Brenda Leigh? You're playing house with this woman after throwing away a marriage to a good man," he spat. Sharon clenched her jaw.

"Now Clay," Willie Rae started.

"No mama, it's ok." Brenda slipped a hand onto Sharon's thigh under the table. "Daddy, I didn't throw anything away with Fritz. Our relationship was over as soon as he started laying guilt trips on me about doing my duty to protect and serve - like I had less of an obligation or was less able than he was. It was demeaning, Daddy, and I wouldn't have tolerated that kind of disrespect from anyone." She smiled a small sweet smile at her lover.

"And as for Sharon? Why wouldn't I want to set up house with a smart, funny, beautiful woman who not only supports what I do, but thought I do it well enough to be Chief of Police?" Charlie smirked at this, though Clay merely grunted and took another bite of burger. Sharon looked at Brenda with a raised eyebrow, and Brenda responded by lifting a shoulder.

"Plus, her digs are about a thousand times nicer than that apartment, Aunt Brenda," Charlie said helpfully.

"That apartment was kind of a rathole, Brenda," Sharon agreed. She had refused to stay over there again after Fritz had walked in on them. She had never felt all that comfortable sleeping and making love in the couple's marital bed, either. Or with the fact that Brenda had gotten the bed from a murdered sex worker. That was one piece of furniture she had barred from the house.

It had been a surprisingly un-awkward afternoon and evening. Clay remained surly and silent as Brenda Leigh, Sharon and Charlie disported themselves in the pool and Willie Rae read in a lounge chair, though Sharon could feel his eyes on her as she gave Brenda a good dunking - her hands on Brenda's slender waist - and then pulled her close to drop a kiss on her chlorine scented hair. Sharon wasn't going to hide the fact that she and Brenda were affectionate, and she certainly wasn't going to hide the fact that she desired the blonde woman who had tied herself into a skimpy black bikini that made a lovely contrast with her pale, smooth skin.

"Is that bathing suit your way of telling me I'm getting lucky again tonight, Brenda?" Sharon said softly. Brenda laughed and splashed her.

"Maybe if you had worn your skimpy suit too, Shari. No guarantees now, baby."

"I'm sorry if I wanted to spare your family my middle aged spread," Sharon groused, plucking at the blue tankini that covered her slightly soft, pale stomach.

"I love your belly, Sharon, it proves that you're mortal like the rest of us." She pressed closer, her legs brushing Sharon's under the water, caught up in the flirting. "I guess you are going to get lucky tonight, if only so I can show you just how sexy I find you and your tummy." They jumped apart, startled, when the sliding door into the house bounced in its tracks, the glass rattling.

"Oh, just ignore him." Willie Rae didn't even make to get up off her lounger, though she did put her magazine down and lift her chin to expose her face to the sun a little more.

"Yes, ignore grandpa, but no making out in the front of the innocents, please Aunt Brenda." Charlie snarked from her floating mat.

"Charlene Johnson, I'm surprised at you!" Brenda waded closer to where her niece was floating. "Innocent might be the very last thing I would ever call you." Then she leaped onto the end of the foam mat and yanked it out from under her niece, who flailed into the pool with a tremendous splash. She stood up, spluttering, and scowled at her laughing aunt. She pushed some water at Brenda.

"Fine, kiss her, but no more water torture." Charlie pushed her sopping hair from her eyes and sneered playfully at both of them.

Brenda Leigh was floating languidly on a lounger when she head her phone chime. Tao's tone for non-critical updates. He had spent part of his day going over surveillance footage related to the B & E murder they had caught Thursday.

"Don't you want to get that, Brenda Leigh? What if it's work?" Willie Rae was stunned that her daughter wasn't scrambling for her phone.

"It was just Tao with an update, Mama. It'll sound much more annoying if it's important."

"Well, that's new, Brenda Leigh." Willie Rae sounded mystified. Sharon chuckled from where she was sprawled bonelessly over a lounger.

"Mmmmm. I may have to go over some video footage later, but Tao'll set it up so I can do it from my laptop." She was dozing off again, totally relaxed and trailing her fingers absently through the water.

Willie Rae had retired not long after dinner - jet lag. And she supposed that Clay needed a talking too as he hadn't deigned to come down for dinner. After settling Charlie in her room and giving her the Cliff's Notes version on how to work the television, Brenda slipped into the master suite to find Sharon reclining on their bed in her short, silk robe, a book resting on her naked lap. Her mouth went a little dry at the sight.

"You know Shari, if I'm gonna fuck you, you're going to have to be very, very quiet."

Sharon smirked at her. "I can handle quiet, Brenda Leigh. Can you?" Brenda Leigh was excited at the silky promise in her lover's voice and started slipping out of her clothes. She could already feel moisture coating the inside of her legs.

Sharon lifted an eyebrow at the way Brenda was rubbing her thighs together. "Already wet for me, darling?"

"Always, Sharon Raydor. I'm always wet for you." Brenda crawled onto the bed and onto Sharon, pushing the robe off her shoulders and leaning in for a kiss. Sharon skipped over gentle and ratcheted the kiss up to demanding. She had had images of Brenda traipsing around in that bikini in her mind all afternoon.

Brenda perched herself on Sharon's thigh, much the same as she had that morning. She dropped her head back and groaned when her pussy made contact with Sharon's skin.

"God." She thrust her hips a few times, enjoying the friction. "Is it weird how much I like riding your thigh till I come?" Sharon chuckled.

"Considering how much I enjoy watching you do it - no, it isn't weird at all." Sharon flexed her quad and Brenda sped up her pace until Sharon grasped her hips to control how quickly she could bring herself to orgasm.

"Easy baby. Nice and slow." Sharon leaned up for another kiss, enjoying the sensory overload she was experiencing. The sight of Brenda, her blonde hair a little lank from her dip in the pool, her eyes dark with arousal, teeth worrying her lower lip, her skin slightly rosy from the sun earlier and her current exertions, the delicate definition of muscle in her chest, arms and stomach. The smell of arousal, slightly sunburnt skin and a tang of chlorine. The taste of wine and chocolate and cherries.

Brenda shifted her thigh so it came in contact with Sharon's center, moaning into her mouth when she felt the older woman's arousal. Sharon lifted her hips up to get better contact for her clit on Brenda's leg, letting Brenda's movement create the friction they both needed.

They fucked like this, kissing and keeping eye contact until Brenda dropped her head onto Sharon's shoulder and stiffened, every muscle in her body straining against the canvas of her skin, muffling a shout into Sharon's neck.

After a deep kiss and still trembling with aftershocks, Brenda slid further down the bed and parted Sharon's thighs wide enough to admit her shoulders, immediately latching onto Sharon's clit with her lips and applying forceful suction. Sharon instantly came with a loud wail, and Brenda rode out the orgasm with a smirk.

When she crawled back up to collapse, curled around Sharon's side, her blonde head resting on Sharon's breast, Brenda couldn't resist snarking, "Think you woke up my momma with that orgasm, Shari?" Sharon's only response was to smack her on the ass. Brenda giggled.

Despite the sex and stress of the day, Sharon and Brenda had retired much earlier than usual, and Sharon slid into wakefulness not long after 3 in the morning. She retrieved her robe and book and slipped out into the hallway. A cup of herbal tea and a few pages of her dense, but interesting, book was just the ticket to lull her back to sleep.

The kitchen was already occupied, though. Charlie was tethered to her iPod, watching a video of some sort and eating leftover spaghetti. She jumped when she saw Sharon in doorway, her spoon rattling in her bowl. She pulled out her earbuds.

"Christ, you scared me Sharon." Sharon shot her an arch look.

"I suppose you're one of those teenagers who stays up until 4 and sleeps past noon every day?" Her son had been that way - worked the 4pm to midnight shift at a mini-golf place down in Santa Monica every summer from the time he got his license till his junior year of college.

"Not usually. I took some dramamine on the plane and slept the whole way. Now I'm a little out of whack." She shrugged and grinned crookedly. "A little sleep deprivation on a Sunday never hurt anyone."

"I might be in the same boat. I don't usually go to bed as early as I did last night."

"Oh, was that what got you out of bed? It wasn't those horrible nightmares you were having? Unless there is some alternate explanation for all the noise coming out of your room earlier." Sharon could tell that Charlie was teasing, but there was also a bit of a test here. Sharon cocked her head - a mannerism she had picked up from Brenda.

"Am I supposed to be embarrassed? Life is far too short and I am far too old to be embarrassed about my, frankly speaking, pretty fantastic love life." Charlie blushed hotly and Sharon smirked.

"Okay, ouch. I get it, no teasing about sex being had."

"You're welcome to tease all you want, Charlie. But I will tease back. And I can pretty much guarantee that you will be the one blushing."

"You're probably right. My constitution isn't strong enough to go toe to toe with you about my Aunt's sex life." She was quiet for a long moment, her face turned solemn beneath the lingering blush.

"Thanks for making her happy again, Sharon. I've never seen her this relaxed, even though Grandpa is being an ass."

"Making her happy is always my pleasure, honey."

When Brenda shuffled into the kitchen, she found her mother pouring batter for biscuits and her daddy sipping coffee at the table.

"Morning mama, daddy." She liberated her favorite mug from the dish drain and poured herself a healthy measure of the beverage, topping it off with a generous helping of honey. She leaned against the counter and held the mug to her lips to let the sweet smelling steam drift into her nostrils.

"Did you find everything ok, mama?" Brenda had never seen her mother look out of place or uncomfortable in a kitchen. The woman had a strange intuition that led her unerringly to necessary utensils and ingredients even in unfamiliar kitchens.

"Of course, dear. Sharon keeps a lovely kitchen."

"She is exceedingly organized, mama. Whatcha making?" Brenda already had plans for about three of those biscuits and the raspberry jam she knew was hiding somewhere in the fridge.

"Egg white omelets, and there's fruit salad already in the refrigerator." Brenda turned her attention to her father.

"And how are you this morning, daddy? Are Shari and I going to have to endure another day of the you silently judging us treatment, or are you going to get over yourself?"

Clay gave his daughter a long hard look and she met his gaze unflinchingly.

"What am I supposed to think, Brenda Leigh, when you're so different all of a sudden?" His voice was quiet. "You're doing all the things that your mama and I and Fritz had been after you to do for years; not worrying about work, taking an actual weekend, helping in the kitchen without burning it down, refinishing furniture. And doing them while shacking up with a woman?"

"So, what, you think the changes I've made in my life are all some sort of lesbian mind-control spell that Sharon has me under?" She laughed, and could see her mother beating eggs and fighting down the giggles out of the corner of her eye.

"Daddy, I had an abysmal, hellish year during which my marriage died because I found out seven years too late that my husband didn't truly respect what I did, and my professionalism, integrity and every confession I had elicited and conviction I had made came into question." Brenda sighed and massaged a temple. "If I couldn't make myself take a step back and change some things, who's to say it wouldn't have happened again. So I reevaluated, and in the process found that I had someone in my life who knew every skeleton in my closet and every idiosyncrasy and still managed to like and admire me." Brenda smiled softly at the thought of the woman who was still sprawled in their bed upstairs.

"I guess you've never been known to take the easy road, Brenda Leigh," Clay groused. Brenda supposed that was the best she was going to get until her father became bored with the sulk he was obviously still nursing.

"Sharon was the easiest decision I've made in a long time, Daddy, and because of her, all the harder changes I had to make were worth it. Besides, I haven't changed that much. No offense, but I'd still rather go to the dentist than tell either of you anything personal. And I was working last night before dinner and later I managed to burn the garlic bread. So there."

"It's true Clay." Willie Rae added helpfully. "She spent nearly two hours in front of the computer looking at video from some jewelry store. And would have set off the smoke alarms had Sharon not been so quick with the fire extinguisher."

"She's had practice with that thing. She must've been feeling reckless last night, 'cuz usually I'm only allowed to chop things or mix things."

"I'll have to keep that strategy in mind next time you're in my kitchen over the holidays."

"Of course, mama. Now why don't I chop some mushrooms and green peppers and grate some cheese for those omelets and then I'll go wake up the sleeping beauties.


	7. Epilogue

Brenda Leigh Johnson was exhausted. Friday lunchtime, she had put her parents and niece on a plane back to Atlanta. Her daddy had never really warmed up to her and her new partner, but her mother had found Sharon to be a kindred spirit in the kitchen, and Brenda was pretty sure that Charlie was half in love with the brunette. Not two hours after she had left the airport, Major Crimes had caught a critical missing: a ten year old girl in the Hollywood Hills who was found just three hours ago at the bottom of a hill, the victim of a hit and run. It was Sunday evening.

She kicked open the front door, leaving the it cracked open for Sharon, who would be along in a few minutes with Thai carryout, and dropped her bag next to the entryway table. There was a noise in the kitchen - the refrigerator door opened with a rattle of glass. Brenda stooped to fish her gun from her slumped over purse, though she was unsure how whomever was in the kitchen had missed the unholy racket of her nearly kicking the door down.

She toed off her heels and crept barefoot towards the kitchen, gun in one hand and badge in the other. An OIS in her own damn kitchen was exactly the way she wanted to end this hellacious week. A neatly dressed, dark haired young woman was fishing around in back of the fridge, a plate with two steaming halves of her momma's biscuits sat on the kitchen table. The snacking intruder turned, and when she saw Brenda, shrieked and dropped the jar of Brenda's favorite raspberry jam on the floor, where it shattered and splattered across the kitchen.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my kitchen? Also, LAPD, keep your hands where I can see them."

"Your kitchen? This is my mother's house. Her things are still here." The intruder's hands were raised to about shoulder height, and her eyes were locked on Brenda's gun, but her voice was rather indignant for someone caught breaking into an LAPD Deputy Chief's home.

"Your mother?" Brenda lowered her weapon. Oh for heaven's sake. "Margot?" Margot was Sharon's estranged, hyper-religious 28 year old daughter. As far as Brenda knew, Sharon hadn't had contact with her in over a year. News about Margot came from Sharon's son, Jack. Brenda put her weapon on the counter.

"Don't move. There's glass and jam everywhere." Brenda ducked into the laundry and grabbed a bath towel. Returning to the kitchen, she cleared a path in the mess.

"Why don't you step out of your shoes and go clean them up in the powder room."

By the time Brenda had wiped up the last of her delicious raspberry jam, Margot was hovering in the doorway.

"I'm still unclear as to who you are and what you are doing in my mother's house, Officer." Margot's tone was remarkably similar the one her mother used when she was being insufferable about who got to go first investigating or fucking or using the hair dryer.

"Deputy Chief, actually." Officer? For heaven's sake. Brenda raised an eyebrow. "I'm Brenda Johnson, your mother's girlfriend. I live here." Margot's face contorted into a sneer and her body stiffened.

"Ah, one of my mother's women." She dragged her eyes down Brenda's body, pausing significantly on her plaid mauve skirt and matching twinset. "I don't see why she's recruiting from southern trailer parks now, even if the LAPD has lowered their standards." Brenda clenched her jaw, hoping to keep in the epic, pissed off ripshit that was just dying to get out. She narrowed her eyes.

"Why don't you have a seat in the living room and wait for your mama. I would offer you some refreshment, but I don't know if my mama's trailer park biscuits would be good enough for you, and I'm pretty sure that everything else has some lesbian in it." A little immaturity was always warranted when dealing with your lover's homophobic daughter. And speaking of Sharon, where the hell was she?

Brenda was on her hands and knees Windexing the floor when she heard the front door swing shut and Sharon say, "Margot? What are you doing here? Is everything ok?" There was a rustle of plastic - the bag of food being sat down.

"Yes, Sharon, everything's fine." Margot's tone hadn't left its snotty register.

"Did Brenda let you in? Where is she?"

"You mean your trashy girlfriend? No, but she did pull her gun on me in the kitchen." Brenda could hear the condescension dripping from the young woman's voice. The resemblance to her lover was a little uncanny, but Brenda was extraordinarily grateful that Sharon left her ego at the office, and was curious as to how a woman who was so kind and open in her personal life had popped out such a judgmental scrap of attitude. She kept Windexing.

"I would imagine that was because a stranger was in her kitchen." Sharon's voice had lost its motherly concern. "And I will not be discussing my personal life with you, Margot. You know that is way out of bounds. Now, why are you here? There has to be a reason you came all the way to LA from Nevada."

"It doesn't matter anymore, Sharon, not now that I see you've been backsliding into sinful behavior again." The sigh that Margot let out somehow held even more condescension and venom than her tone had. "I thought you were past this, Mother. I wanted to invite you to my wedding, but your perversion has no place in the temple."

Brenda dropped her head to the ammonia scented floor as a jolt of worry shot through her to pool in her stomach. What if Sharon couldn't deal with estrangement from her daughter in order to maintain their relationship? Or if Sharon started blaming her for Margot's hostility? She tried not to let the thought go any further - but the idea of being without Sharon broke something inside her, even in the rhetorical.

"You call it perversion and sin, Margot, and I call it love." Now it was Sharon's turn to sigh. "We've been over this. As much as I love you, I will not permit your prejudices to dictate how I live my life." The door opened again. "Feel free to email me a link to your bridal registry. Good luck with the wedding plans." The door creaked again, and the bolt was thrown.

"Brenda?" The plastic bag rustled again. "Honey, where are you hiding?" Sharon entered the kitchen to see Brenda on all fours with a roll of paper towels and a bottle of ammonia cleaner. "Oh man, was that the jam?" she said, smelling the sweet scent of the fruit in the air.

"Yea. I think..." Brenda took a deep breath that shook her entire body. "I think I got all the glass, but be careful." Then a sob ripped out of her throat and Sharon was on her knees next to Brenda in a moment, holding the blonde, who had collapsed on the floor to cry.

When Brenda had quieted enough to breathe properly, she sat up, a little ashamed of her outburst, but Sharon caught her eye and put a hand on her cheek.

"Brenda, honey, did Margot say something to you?" Sharon's voice was the soft purr that characterized their most intimate and emotional moments, a tone that did pleasant things to Brenda's heart.

"No, no. I just was struck all of a sudden by how..." she choked back another sob. "...how fragile all this is." Sharon's face froze, thinking maybe that Brenda couldn't handle the crazy that was her younger child.

"No, no, Shari, that's not what I mean." She pressed her forehead to Sharon's. "I love you so, so much, and it breaks my heart to even think of my life without you, but I would never want to come between you and your kids."

Sharon just smiled and kissed her. "My issues with Margot don't have anything to do with my sexuality, really, sweetheart. Don't let the aggrieved piety act fool you. She blames me for the breakup of my marriage to her father and my being gay is just a convenient excuse for her to take it out on me." Sharon kissed her lips again, sweetly, and then kissed away the tears that still lingered on Brenda's cheeks. "Come on, let's go change. We both smell like cleaner and raspberries."

They both changed into loungewear, but before a still subdued Brenda could leave the bedroom, Sharon grabbed her wrist and pulled Brenda to sit next to her on their bed.

"I have something for you, Brenda." From the pocket of her discarded blazer, Sharon pulled a small, square, black box. Brenda's eyes widened and she clutched at Sharon's thigh.

"I know that marriage hasn't worked out the best for either of us, Brenda Leigh, but I want to make a promise to you, not to god or the state or our families, just to you, that I will love you until you will no longer have me." She opened the box, and nestled inside the velvet was a yellow gold and emerald ring. The gold was flattened into a band and curved gracefully around to cup the stone. The setting was elegant and unlike anything she had ever seen before, things that Brenda felt were excellent descriptors of her Sharon and their relationship.

"It's beautiful, Shari. I've never seen anything like it." She let Sharon put the band on her left ring finger. "That was a beautiful promise. No one has ever said something like that to me before, in words that were their own and not something they were parroting back to a priest." She kissed Sharon, barely letting their lips touch, and then laughed.

"You are always a difficult act to follow, you know." Brenda's face softened and her eyes became depthless, glittering with repressed tears. "Finding words that express how I feel for you; how happy you've made me is going to be next to impossible." She brought Sharon's left hand up to her face and peered at it, concentrating on her ring finger. "And I need to find something lovely to put on this finger."

"I trust you to approach this task with the same diligence you use to catch murderers, Brenda Leigh." Sharon said sternly, though her lips were quirked up in a small smile. Brenda tackled her to the bed and kissed her resoundingly.


End file.
